RIPD
by Kitskune Miyake
Summary: Set after Endgame. Wally is thrown into limbo, where he is forced to join the RIPD: a collection of the greatest heroes to exist and stop existing. Rated for mild language. Featuring all your favorite dead characters throughout the DC Multiverse.


So there was a contest on deviantART where you had to do Birdflash and tie in a 2013 movie, either out or upcoming, so I wrote this! Birdflash in an RIPD-esque universe. Mostly, this is me trying to cope with favorite dead/limbo characters in the DC-verse.

Ownership of Young Justice disclaimed. I'm writing for fun.

* * *

"Just tell them, okay?"

Wally heard the sounds of protests, but they soon faded. The last thing he saw was the look of horror on Uncle Barry's face as he flickered out of existence, carried away by the energy they had tried so hard to reroute. It didn't hurt nearly as much as the energy shocks that had been hitting him. For a moment, everything went white. Quiet and white and peaceful. He wondered if Uncle Barry and Bart had saved the world. Then it faded to black.

* * *

"…a bit young, isn't he?"

"Shut your mouth. There's no such thing."

Wally's head tilted forward and suddenly snapped back up. He was awake, alive, solid. He was there, present, as if nothing had happened. He had only a moment to celebrate that victory before noticing the two faces shoved way past socially acceptable boundaries. He pulled back as far as the chair allowed him, which wasn't very far. He felt the chair tilt back slightly, but someone—he wasn't sure who—stopped him from falling backwards. He found himself looking into two sets of domino masks on two different faces.

One face was fairly young, but it was set in a rather adult expression of impatience and contempt. He wondered what he could have done to anger the young boy—he assumed it was a boy. The other mask was set on an older person, this one decidedly more masculine. He was around Wally's age, possibly a bit older. The opaque lenses on both domino masks made any attempt at identification difficult, and they were too close for him to see the rest of their forms.

The younger, angry one pulled away and settled in the chair across from Wally. They were on opposite sides of a desk. The other domino mask stood to the side of Wally's chair.

Now that he had a clearer view of the person, he realized that the angry boy was just that—a boy, no more than twelve years old. However, his body gave a different impression, as the boy was built like a tank, easily only a few inches shorter than he was. He had black hair that stuck up slightly. His clothes were awfully familiar: yellow cape, red vest, R-insignia…

"Robin?"

"Congratulations," the boy sneered, "looks like death hasn't dulled that razor wit of yours."

"Dead?" He had been running, trying to generate enough kinetic energy to reverse the device. Everything had faded to white.

"According to this file," he waved a manila folder in front of Wally's face, barely missing the tip of his nose, "you flickered out of existence due to an energy overload on your unstable molecular structure."

"So I'm dead?"

The boy sighed irritably. "Yes, you dolt. Extremely. Like the rest of us."

"So this is heaven?" He glanced around. The room he was sitting in was entirely white: white walls, white floors, white chair. To his left was a glass pane that showed what appeared to be an office.

"I should hope not," Robin snapped back. "The official term is 'limbo.' Like the rest of us, your existence is as messy as a poorly-written comic mythos. In fact, in one universe, that's exactly what it is."

"Universe?"

"We live in a multiverse, but I'm not even going to get into that. You're new partner can explain it."

"Partner?"

"Grayson, stop fiddling with the water cooler."

"I was only thirsty, Dami. Sorry."

"That's _Robin_ to you, Nightwing."

_Nightwing?_

A person stepped out from behind him and sat on the corner of the desk, facing towards Wally. It was Nightwing, but it wasn't. Wally's eyes widened as his best friend that wasn't actually his best friend stepped into view. He was older than the real Nightwing, his hair was shorter, and the costume was slightly different, but it was the friend he had last seen, the friend he hadn't apologized to before he died. He felt his throat stop up.

"Hey." He smiled warmly. "Nightwing. But you probably knew that. You have one of me in your universe, right? Haven't died yet?"

Wally swallowed the knot in his throat. "Yeah, not dead. All good."

"Good. Thank God I'm smarter in your 'verse."

"'Verse?"

"R.I.P.D. jargon. Short for universe. I'll explain later. Right now, we've got a job to attend to. I'll walk you through the ropes, buddy." He leaned over and ruffled Wally's hair. Nightwing stood up and headed towards the door, motioning for Wally to follow.

"Wait." It was that grumpy Robin. "You can't very well go out without a gun."

"I don't need a gun, I've got—" Wally was interrupted by a heavy thud as the kid pulled out a heavy-looking holster and gun.

"I don't care about your abilities. You're gonna need some heavy artillery out there."

Wally arched an eyebrow questioningly, but he took the belt and tightened it around his waist. It added at least ten pounds to his lightweight suit. _How the hell am I supposed to run in this? _

"And your badge." The boy grinned wickedly. Suddenly, Wally felt a searing pain just above his heart. He screamed loudly and unabashedly, tearing at the suit in a vain attempt to soothe the pain. He pulled back the zipper on the back of his neck, pulling off the suit to his waist. He looked down as best as he could without blocking what looked to be… a brand? A cattle brand? "Spare the stripping, West. There are children here," Robin quipped. Nightwing tried to stifle a giggle.

* * *

"So, if I'm dead, then you're dead too, right?" he asked Nightwing.

"Yeah, what about it?" The two were now wandering what appeared to be Gotham, a city he was quite familiar with. He and Dick had hung out many nights before, patrolling from the rooftops and getting burgers at three in the morning from this one place that always seemed to have customers at any given hour.

"How did you die?"

Nightwing stopped, but Wally kept walking. "…I'd rather not say. It's… nothing. Stupid."

Wally turned around and quirked an eyebrow. "Fine then. I guess you read my file, so I don't really have much to share. So what now?"

"Now we do our job."

"Which is…?"

"We're the R.I.P.D.: Rest in Peace Department. You and me and Smiley back there are among some of the greatest heroes to live and stop living."

"So everyone in there is dead?"

"Not dead. In limbo. It's complicated, and I'll probably butcher the explanation." He ran his hand through his hair. "Doesn't matter anyways. Whatever we looked like in there isn't what we look like now. Can't risk the public seeing a dead man come back to life."

"So, what exactly do we do?"

"Supers don't go down easily. Heroes, villains, general metahumans. Having ties in other 'verses makes them even less willing to let go and die. We're here to make sure that their ghosts don't wreak too much havoc on the living. It's disruptive. In limbo, we hold onto them until they get called back."

"Called back?"

"Don't worry about it. The main staff people of the R.I.P.D. are usually 'too toxic' to get summoned back. You, Brown, Cain. I'm from a less permanent 'verse, so I'm on staff. Greeters like Sunshine back there are more temporary. You following?"

Wally blinked a few times, processing the information. "I think so." His head was spinning slightly. "Wait, you said we don't look like ourselves?"

"Check your ID. You need your story in order. We're here."

* * *

Cassandra Cain was polishing her batarangs when the doorbell rang. She didn't jump; her sensors had picked up two figures approaching the door earlier. She checked the camera: a middle-aged man and what appeared to be his disgruntled daughter. Didn't seem threatening, but looks had been deceiving in the past. The bell rang twice more. They did not seem to be going away, so she got up and answered the door.

The father was tall and all-American handsome: blonde hair, blue eyes, and strong features. His daughter was a rather ticked brunette with curly pigtails and a denim jumper, a rather childish look, considering she appeared about fifteen.

"This is stupid. You're stupid for picking this stupid appearance. You're such a dick."

"Hi," said the dad, "we're from the R.I.P.D." Her blood ran cold. "And we have reason to suspect that you shouldn't exist in this universe."

* * *

I don't know if it's that clear, but the Nightwing used is the one from Injustice. The one who died when he fell on a rock. Look it up. The Damian is from the mainverse. Anyone else mentioned has been put in limbo from all current 'verses, according to my knowledge.

Anyways, please review! Faves are okay... but I really like reviews~


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